No Games
by theuselessquill
Summary: "Dangerous to sit alone in your car at night, in the Narrows, doors unlocked ..." Mia thought she was already neck deep in Gotham's underworld, but she's not even in the water yet.
1. Chapter 1

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_ Mia's eyes flew open, assessing her room for danger. By reflex her hand closed around the pocketknife under her pillow. She pinched the bridge of her nose to abate her impending migraine. _Bang! Bang! Bang!_ The front door of Mia's studio shook. "Go away," Mia shouted at it.

"Rise and shine, Princess!" _Bang! Bang! Bang!_ Mia cursed as she glanced at her phone; 5 missed calls and it wasn't even five in the morning. Cursing, she tucked the pocketknife in her bra and answered the door.

"Jesus, Mia, could have put on some pants," Luc Conti grinned down at her. His dark hair was tied into a ponytail at the base of his neck and Mia could smell beer on his breath.

"The fuck do you want, Luc?" she snarled, "Its four in the morning, I've had an hour's sleep; unless you have the Batman tied up in – " Luc held up a placating hand.

"I just woke up too, Princess. Boss's got an errand for you. I tried calling …" Luc finished with a helpless shrug. He was technically Mia's superior. Technically. The lines between handler and brother tended to blur. On closer inspection Luc didn't look much better off than Mia did. His normally immaculate ponytail was falling apart and he had yet to shave.

"You look like hell," she said, moving back into her apartment. "What is this errand anyway?"

"Some sort of exchange," he closed the door and grabbed a beer from Mia's fridge. "I don't know the details but I've got a purse in the trunk that I'm not allowed to open."

As Mia finished pulling on her jeans, she grabbed the beer from Luc. "You're already tipsy and driving," she grabbed her jacket and bag, "besides, I'm ready when you are."

"I think that's a record for you, Princess," Luc grinned.

Mia rolled her eyes. "Let's just go."

Mia lulled in and out of sleep in the car. Luc could be driving her into a trap and she would never know. But when Luc poked her awake they were parked in an alleyway in the Narrows. Typical. Silently they slipped out of the car and filed around to the trunk. "The contact is parked around the corner in an old silver Camry. Get in the car. Make the exchange – "

"Wait?" Mia finally spoke, "you want me to get in a car with this person? "

"It's all kosher, princess," Luc grinned, "Besides, you get in clients cars all the time."

"Yeah, trusted ones," she frowned, picking up the purse.

"Just don't let on that you're not sure what's supposed to be in the bag." Luc pulled a small pistol from inside his jacket. "In case you need it," he tucked it into the inside pocket in Mia's jacket. "Now go."

Mia grabbed the purse and went around the corner, scanning for the Camry and danger. Though it was almost morning the Batman could very well still be out. Spotting the car she picked up speed. Every step seemed to echo around the empty streets. She walked faster. The Camry had parked almost a block away from Luc's alleyway. Several birds above her were spooked by something. Mia nearly broke into a run. "Slow down," she chided herself. Running could draw more attention than she wanted.

She froze when she opened the Camry. Pushing away the impulse to just give up and walk away, Mia fell into the passenger seat. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"Nice to see you too." The Joker had stretched himself across the front seat; his shoes resting on the dashboard next to Mia.

"Wasn't there a bounty on your head or something?"

"'Was' is operative word there, sweetheart." Joker tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.

"Can we just get this over with?" Mia's eyes dropped to the hand not on the steering wheel; the one absentmindedly fingering a pocketknife.

"No games?" Joker mock pouted. "Purse is at your feet, kid." Mia pulled it up and started searching through it.

"What the fuck are you playing at?" she turned the empty bag upside-down.

"Like I said," Joker giggled, "'no games'."

Mia launched the purse at him. "Yeah, no fucking games, give me the shit." She started to calculate the likely hood of killing the Joker and searching the car, her hand reaching up for a weapon.

"You shouldn't have done that." He threw himself across the car before Mia's sleep deprived brain could react, his foot hitting the horn as he did. His face was inches from hers. Mia could count the spots where his makeup had smeared off. She could feel the moisture from his breath. The Joker's knife dug into her cheek. Her left arm was pinned to her chest by his elbow, inches from the gun. He pinned her other shoulder down painfully between the seat and window. Both of his knees settled painfully against her hipbones, effectively pinning her legs. "If you're gonna bring a gun to a knife fight you at least have to draw it," he spit as he cackled. Mia pushed struggled against him, her right arm groping for the door handle.

"What the hell do you want?"

The Joker pressed his knife into her cheeks, drawing blood. "When will you people learn?" he replied, "I just wanted to see what that guy was up too." He adjusted his knee so that Mia cried out in pain. "Dangerous to sit alone in your car at night, in the Narrows, doors unlocked." Mia's hand continued to search for the door handle. "Especially with half a mill in a bag …. Maroni's?" Mia squeezed her eyes shut. "And then you came along …" Mia's hand closed around the door handle, "… a shiny new toy …" Mia pushed the door open, allowing herself to fall into a heap with the Joker.

Mia threw her legs out attempting to gain the upper hand on the mass of purple above her. One hand grasped for her gun, the other punching anything bit of matter she could reach. The Joker laughed, grabbing the offending hand and pressing a knee on Mia's chest. She coughed weakly, tossing back and forth. "Enjoying yourself?" Joker said, pulling the gun from Mia's jacket. He examined it thoughtfully before opening the chamber. "It's not even loaded?" he let go of Mia's hand as he doubled over in laughter. "They gave you an unloaded gun?" Mia seized her opportunity to pull out the pocket knife she had stuffed in her bra earlier. She jammed it into the first available limb she could find, that being his thigh. "Fucking bitch," he snarled. Mia twisted it the knife.

"Get off of me," Mia grunted, trying to sit up. She pulled the knife out, preparing for another attack. The Joker was quicker and threw a fist at Mia. Stars danced in her vision. He hit her again. Lack of sleep was catching up to her; her vision swam. Mia's knife lay useless at her side, her entire world narrowing to blinding punches and distant cackles. She screamed.

"'attagirl!" the Joker cackled. A gunshot cracked through the air above them. The Joker froze. Mia sighed in relief. Luc's truck sped toward them. He fired another shot at the Joker. This time the Joker rolled off of Mia to avoid the gunfire. Two more shots. Mia pushed herself up and threw herself into the vehicle. Luc passed the gun to Mia.

"Is he following?" Luc asked, jamming the stick in some foreign-to-Mia pattern, causing it to lurch forward.

"I don't think so?" Mia turned around to check. The Joker stood on the side walk behind them doubled over in pain or laughter, it didn't really matter.

"What the fuck happened?" Luc asked.

"Joker killed the contact." Mia became aware of blood dripping down her nose. She poked it diagnostically, and winced.

"And the bag?"

" _Shit,_ " Mia threw her head against the seat and was rewarded with pain from whatever injury she had sustained falling out of the car. "I'm dead anyway, aren't I?" Luc declined to reply.


	2. Chapter 2

The Joker dragged himself up. Between the bullet in his shoulder and the wound in his leg, everything seemed to hurt. He laughed half heartedly. Maroni's little bitch sure had some fight in her. He watched the old pickup truck drive away for a second, taking not of the license plate. Joker pulled out an old flip phone and held down the speed dial. "I need you to track down someone for me, Sam," he said to his henchman, "License plate 3B0-XD7." Pause. "A truck, I don't know. Find it." He hung up, and climbed into the car.

The girl's contact was tucked in the backseat. He was lucky she hadn't tried to climb back there; the game would have ended too soon. He had tucked the money into under his seat before she had arrived, and he started piling it back in, ignoring the growing pain in his shoulder and humming tunelessly. He then remembered the exchange. Maroni's bag lay on the passenger side dashboard. It felt almost empty. The Joker rummaged around it, finding only a blank greeting card. "250 Fifth Street, number 60." Joker grinned. Something at that address was worth five hundred thousand and he was going to find out. After he stopped ruining his suit, though.


	3. Chapter 3

"I can set that for you," Luc said when they reached Mia's building. Mia nodded but said nothing. He had been in nursing school before his first arrest, possession charges. Any hopes of working in the medical field and escaping Maroni's thumb died in Blackgate. "Have you looked at yourself yet?" Mia shook her head, but remained silent. "You're going to have to stay awake for a little bit," Luc continued his makeshift checkup, "I'll hang around to observe you, unless you just want to just go to the ER."

"Hell no," Mia grunted, adjusting herself on the stool. Luc was wetting a rag in the kitchen. "They'll want to file a police report and that'll open a slew of questions I don't want to answer."

"I know," he wiped the blood from around Mia's nose, "brace yourself." She shouted a curse as Luc twisted her nose. He quickly put some ice over it.

"How bad do I look?" Mia questioned.

"I'd call in sick to work for a couple days, you're not gonna be able to cover it up," Luc said grimly.

"You gave me an unloaded weapon," Mia finally accused, slightly muffled from the icepack against her face.

"You don't know how to use it," Luc said, "Figured just the sight of it should scare a contact."

"Asshole," Mia grunted, "could have told me." A lot of that morning's disaster could have been avoided had someone kept her informed. Neither of them was sure what Mia had lost to the Joker, but Maroni wouldn't be happy about it.

Luc hung around until well into the day. Making sure Mia ate and didn't collapse on him. He even went as far as making sure she left the bathroom unlocked. "I'm not going to fall into the toilet you know," Mia had snapped the first time he told her. She had spent an hour examining her reflection, her right eye down her nose already looked like a train wreck and it would only, get worse over night. She had dark circles under her eyes, one of which had broken a blood vessel. Mia had a long dark scab forming across her left cheek. Hopefully it wouldn't scar, Mia swore to kill the Joker if he left her with his trademark grin. To top the mess off her hair had essentially become a rat's nest; it was the right color even, tawny brown. "Joker did this to you," she said to her reflection, it stared sympathetically back. She left the bathroom after attempting to sort out her hair with minimal success. Around 4:30 Luc had received a phone call, presumably for a job, and left Mia with care instructions for her head face and nose. She took the opportunity to pass out on her bed, fully clothed.

When she woke up it was dark outside. Checking her phone she stared at the time, trying process it. Ten in the morning. She looked to her window, seeking some sort of solution and nearly screamed. Joker cards, at least fifty of them were covering her window. Pulling out a new knife from under her pillow, she grabbed one of the cards. Her stomach dropped. Not only was the Joker or someone in her house, he had reached over her to cover her window. Hell, he had covered all of them. Every window in her house, including the sliding glass door to her balcony, was covered with cards so no light could pass through. "Fuck," Mia got out of bed, clutching her knife.

Her apartment was small, just a one room studio with a very open floor plan. From where she stood she could see every corner of the apartment, every corner except inside her closet and bathroom.

Mia crossed to the closet first, flinging the sliding door open with such force that it fell off of its tracks. The resulting crashes made her jump and brandish her knife in its direction. The door lay helpless on the floor beside her. The closet was empty. She crossed the room to the bathroom, slamming it open with equal force. Empty. She slammed her shower curtain back, preparing to stab whoever hid behind it. Just the taps. The Joker had cleared out.

Mia briefly considered calling the cops. The GCPD could pull prints from the cards, but they were essentially useless in this situation. Besides, she had more than a felony's worth of pills stored around her house, no need inviting the cops to search for it.

She spent the rest of the morning clearing out the cards, obsessively checking her phone for some indication of Maroni's punishment. At least Mia knew what to expect from Maroni. A swift death, maybe? Impossible tasks? A suicide mission? He was a predictable boss, that's why she stayed loyal to him. The evil you know. She received a text from a burn phone in the afternoon. "pickup 7:30 behind iceberg lounge". Happy for something to do she threw herself into getting ready and not looking like she had just gotten pummeled on the sidewalk.

The Iceberg Lounge was neon and grimy. It wasn't a place Mia frequented nor did she ever intend to. She had returned Luc's gun, feeling much more comfortable with a pocket knife. At least she knew how to use one. Said weapon was safe and easily reachable in her front pocket.

Mia didn't even bother entering the bar. The dirty cops that frequented the place were still cops nonetheless and she didn't trust them as far as she could throw them. Even behind the bar the cacophony reached her ears. She scanned the alley for a contact … or a clown. Only white noise from the bar. This wasn't the Boss's style. The contact always arrived before her. And she was too close to civilization, even if it was the underbelly of it. Mia pulled out her knife, holding it close to her as she neared the back entrance to the lounge.

She jumped at a noise behind her, swinging her knife at the source. "Jesus, Mia!" the man exclaimed, tripping over himself to back away. Mia vaguely recognized him. His name was John or Tom or Joe or something like that. Maroni liked the generic tall white guy types. "What happened to your face?"

"None of your problem," Mia tucked the knife away, "What do you have for me?"

"Was it the Joker?" John started laughing, "I knew he fucked you over, but _damn_." John pulled out a briefcase. "Boss wants this cleared out by the end of the week," he said.

"Who does he think I am? Walter White or Jesse Pinkman?" Mia took the briefcase, daunted by its weight.

"Neither," John replied, "Look you're in deep shit with the Boss. Be a good girl and don't fuck this up."

"Whatever you say, John."

"It's Sam."

"Good for you," Mia replied.

"Listen here, _princess,_ " he snarled Luc's nickname for her, "As far as I see it you're already dead." He shoved into the wall. "Play nice, because your boss won't bat an eye if you disappear." Mia straightened herself up and pushed past Sam. Apparently Maroni was looking for an excuse to kill her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Tw: drugs, not use but some description**

Mia threw the briefcase onto her counter. It had to weigh at least fifteen pounds and made a solid clunking sound. Anxiously, she ran a hand through her hair. She'd be in Blackgate or dead by the end of the week sooner than she'd sell it. Why couldn't Maroni have blown her up or shot her point blank? Maybe it was a lifetime supply of bud? Mia snorted the thought. She could dump that at the high school easily.

When she worked up the courage to open the briefcase, her heart stopped. Mia had never seen that much crystal meth in her life. Ten Ziploc bags sat in a neat grid, staring at her menacingly. She experimentally poked one, jumping back as it crunched at her. Her heart nearly beat out of her chest; she could hear it in her ears. The smell of it seemed to linger in the air. Or was that just her imagination? Mia clutched the counter and crouched down. After a few steadying breaths, she stood up and acted on autopilot. Just like any new product she weighed it. Almost exactly one kilo it read. Mia released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She threw the bag back in the briefcase, slammed it shut, and sank to the floor to cry.

 _One year ago. Luc grinned at Mia as she dragged her bag out of the front door. The "Second Chance Center" loomed above them. Mia had spent thirty days drying out there. "I can't sell anymore," she had said quietly in the car._

" _Tell that to Maroni," was all Luc could say._

" _I'm serious, I need out," she said, "I'll just end up back here."_

" _I doubt he'll ever let you near the stuff," Luc offered, "You're in this for life, Princess."_

And he hadn't. Maroni hadn't let her leave and he hadn't let her sell her vices. After all, Maroni had financed Mia's rehab trip. But overdosing on meth and heroine, _his_ meth and heroine, had been her first strike. She assumed losing the bag to Joker was strike two. If they were playing baseball, any mistakes with the crystal would be strike three.

Mia dragged herself up, blew her nose, and grabbed her phone. She had a text from the number she now recognized as Sam's burn phone: "i guess ur jessie."

Oh fuck you," Mia typed as aggressively as one could on a touch screen. Moving on, she started sending out mass texts. First she wrote old regulars that had stopped buying from her when she stopped carrying their drugs of choice. Maybe she could sell small quantities to them. Then, she moved on to buyers, suppliers, dealers and idiots with a home lab; all of whom, as far as she knew, were outside the Maroni Family and owed her or her brother a favor. Finally she wrote Luc about her predicament.

He replied immediately: "Idk. go to a meeting or something?" Mia laughed hollowly and then threw herself face first into the couch and screamed. Her body itched for the drug that lay six feet from her in mass quantities. Once a junkie always a junkie, Mia thought. She stood up to grab a cigarette when someone knocked on her door.

"What is it now?" Mia stashed the briefcase under her sink and checked through the peephole. The hallway was empty. "Well fuck you," she said to the door. Someone knocked again, this time she heard someone's heavy footsteps speed down the hall. She humored the prankster and opened the door slightly, letting the chain catch. This time Mia saw a purple envelope stuck to her door. "Fuck you, Joker." She slammed the door.

There wasn't much Mia could do about the drugs under her sink until someone wrote her back, so she returned to her cigarette. Someone knocked at her door a third time. Mia ignored it. "My name is Mia Conti. I am 21 years old," she fell back on want old coping skill, though she was unsure what she was coping with: the cravings for the meth, the hopelessness of her situation, or the anxiety from the Joker. "I work for Salvatore Maroni. I got conned by the Joker" – she took a drag – "and lost something that was worth at least five hundred grand. I have to sell ten kilos of meth by Friday. I owe Salvatore Maroni five hundred grand. Ten kilos. Five hundred grand. If I lose it, or use it or just don't sell it all . . ." she paused, taking a drag of her cigarette. The person knocked again, louder this time. "According to Sam the Boss doesn't care if I die. I don't know who Sam is. Sam's an asshole. The Joker's trying play mind games with me now. The Joker's an asshole. The Joker is criminally insane." A fifth time they knocked on the door. No, not knocking, they were kicking at it. Mia pulled her pocketknife out of her pocket with her free hand, and turned to face the door. "Someone doesn't like to be ignored," she paused, "or is ordered to not let himself be ignored." Just like the card trick, it could always be hired help.

Her entire door was shaking. The sound grew and whoever it was seemed to be throwing their shoulder into the door. Mia put out her cigarette and stood up. _Bang!_ The door shuddered. Bits of plaster fell from her ceiling. _Bang!_ Mia half hoped he broke through; half hoped he was gunning for a fight. She was. She briefly considered opening the door for the assailant. _Clang!_ The sound changed, now emanating from her door handle. _Clang!_ Mia assumed they were trying to break the lock. _Clang! Clunk._ Something seemed to give in her door handle. Mia held her weapon in a fighting stance, standing a safe distance from the door. _Bang!_ They had resumed kicking. This time the door opened, banging against her door chain and closing again. _Bang!_ Mia's chain wouldn't hold much more. _Bang!_ The chains track began to pull from her wall. Mia braced herself for her intruder to break through. Her shoulders tightened and she crouched down. The moment that door open she would tackle him, if they weren't the Joker she'd leave them wishing they looked like him. And if they were the Joker? Mia hadn't thought that far ahead.

Mia sat there planning to pounce for several moments. Her teeth began to ache and she realized they were clenched. Then the intruder started running away, or at least sounded as though he was. She remained in an attack position for a few more seconds before approaching her door. The door wasn't hanging off its hinges but it might be. She pushed it closed and undid the chain. The entirety of her outside handle was broken off, hanging uselessly by a strip of the plastic paint on her door. They had managed to kick several dents in her door, centered around the handle, one of them even cracking. Of course, the purple envelope remained untouched.

The police arrived less than a minute later. A man and a woman Mia instantly nicknamed "Pretty Boy" and "Bitchface". They both drew their weapons at the sight of Mia's knife.

"Drop your weapon and put your hands above your head!" Officer Bitchface shouted holding out her badge. Mia complied wordlessly. Past experience said to make your case to the officers unarmed. She raised her left arm and slowly placed the knife on the floor, then kicked it to Pretty Boy.

"It's not a weapon," Mia crossed her fingers. With ten kilos of hard drugs under her sink, leave it to fate that she goes to jail over a pocket knife. "Just the first thing I grabbed when someone was trying to break down my door." She rested both hands on her head and tried to ignore her heartbeat.

"You live here?" Bitchface lowered her weapon. Pretty Boy was picking her knife up with an evidence bag. Mia nodded. "What happened?"

"Someone was trying to break in," Mia shrugged as best she could, "I guess they didn't know I was home or something. Bolted before they got through, probably because of you"

"And you didn't call us?" Pretty Boy asked.

"At first I thought it was some kids pulling a prank, and then I was too scared," Mia replied in a matter of fact tone. "Who did call?" Whoever sent police to her door was going to pay. Bitchface moved to pat Mia down, searching for anymore weapons. Mia's arms were getting sore

"An anonymous noise complaint," Bitchface stepped away from Mia. "You can put your arms down."

Mia rubbed her offended arms. "A concerned neighbor?"

"Any idea who would want to knock your door off its hinges?" Pretty Boy countered her question with another.

"Nope." Mia made a popping noise over the 'p'.

Bitchface pulled the purple envelope off the door. "You sure?" From this angle Mia could see that it bore metallic writing, from a Sharpie of some sort. "To: Mia _heart_ J," Officer Bitchface read out loud. Mia became nauseous.

"Probably some surprise my boyfriend, Joey, I guess," Mia ran her hand through her hair, "Must have missed it when I got home." Anxiety poured through her body, ice cold and thick. Pretty Boy pressed his lips together. "Can I have it?" Mia held out her hand.

"Technically its evidence," Pretty Boy replied, pulling out another evidence bag.

"No its not," Mia was becoming frantic, "Joey leaves that shit for me all the time." Her imaginary boyfriend story seemed flimsier and flimsier. "And I'm not pressing any charges." With a rush of courage, Mia snatched the envelope from the officer.

"Whoever did this is either pissed or desperate," Bitchface warned, "Are you sure?" Pissed or desperate, Mia thought, sounds about right.

"I'm sure. Probably some teenage punks. It's not like I'm in the Narrows or anything," Mia assured her.

Pretty boy looked doubtful. "If you're in any sort of trouble, the best thing is to let us help," he dug in his pocket, "Take my card, you can reach my desk from the number."

Mia didn't know whether to cry or laugh. Instead, she nodded, took the card and said, "Thanks, but I've got shit handled."

"Remember," Officer Pretty Boy reiterated, "Call if 'shit' happens again."

Mia nodded and retreated back into her house. She tossed both the card and envelope haphazardly on the table and started searching for deals on front doors and door handles. Her landlord was going to kill her.

"How much of that do you believe?" Officer Spencer turned to her partner at the end of the hallway.

"Nothing," Officer Blake replied, sparing a glance at Mia's apartment door, "unless she presses charges or makes some sort of statement …" Blake shrugged.

"We could have pushed harder," Spencer frowned.

Blake shook his head, "I'm not into treating victims like perps."


End file.
